


Eleven Weeks, Twelve Weeks

by mardemaravilla



Series: This Little Life Inside Of You [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Chelsea FC, M/M, Mpreg, Mystery Character(s), Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardemaravilla/pseuds/mardemaravilla
Summary: His mother cuts off her husband's escalating voice, "How many months pregnant are you?""About three. I only found out a few weeks ago. I have to stop playing football from now until next season, so I'm giving a press conference today. I didn't want you to find out like that, so I phoned."





	Eleven Weeks, Twelve Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> I promise we'll start week-jumping soon, bear with me.
> 
>  **CONTEXT NOTE:**  
>  Again, this fic is set in 2012. All characters used are from that time period. Here is a squad list from [2011/2012](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011%E2%80%9312_Chelsea_F.C._season#First_team_squad) and [2012/2013](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012%E2%80%9313_Chelsea_F.C._season#First_team_squad) as a reminder of who used to be around back then.

The club's public relations manager phones when Fernando is exactly eleven weeks into his pregnancy. The striker is still staying at Juan's apartment since Olalla asked him for a divorce. He's too depressed to take the call, so Juan arranges for the PR manager to come over for dinner that evening.

He outlines his plan of announcing the pregnancy to the media: Fernando must appear healthy and happy and confident, reassuring the press that he is excited and looking forward to this new part of his life. He should release basic details, about how far along he is and the expected due date, but request privacy during this very sensitive time. He should also speak about his future in football, promising his return next season after the baby's birth.

"They'll probably bombard you with questions about the other father, so--" he says.

Fernando cuts him off with a shake of his head, "No."

The PR manager raises an eyebrow, " _No_ , you don't think they'll ask, or _no_ , you don't want to talk about him at the conference? You're the first male footballer to get pregnant while still an active player at Chelsea. We have to be very careful about how we go about this, Fernando. We want to handle this in a way that doesn't create a scandal. One detail out of place and it could all go wrong."

The striker scoffs, "Isn't it already a scandal? I'm pregnant and my wife is leaving me. I'm sure every tabloid in England will have a field day with this announcement."

"Are you changing your mind about telling the press?"

Fernando rubs his face and sighs, "I'm…I'm not telling them about the other father. He…I want him to be kept out of the media's spotlight."

The PR manager raises an eyebrow at Juan and the midfielder reaches out for Fernando's hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone, Fer?"

Fernando nods and the PR manager sighs.

"Okay. It'll be a little more difficult," he says as he makes notes on his tablet, "But we can make it work. When they ask about him, because they will ask, tell them what you just told me: that you want to keep him out of the media spotlight so that you can have a normal, calm pregnancy."

Fernando nods mutely.

"Okay, I think that's everything. I've already tentatively scheduled the conference for next week. Does that still work for you or would you like me to change the date?"

Fernando agrees to the date and time already planned and he shakes hands with the Chelsea employee as Juan shows him out.

"Thank you. I might not seem like it, but I'm grateful for your help," the blond says quietly.

The man smiles, shakes his head, "I'm just doing my job. And don't worry, I'm not taking it personally; my brother had twins just last year, so I remember what it's like."

That night, Fernando lies in Juan's guest room, slightly comforted by the reassurance that the things happening to his body are normal. 

-

Fernando resolves to tell his teammates after their next training session. He wants to be open with them, and he certainly doesn't want them hearing about it from the press conference he's scheduled to hold. He has a lot of respect for these men that took him in and made him one of their own after his less than gracious Liverpool exit; they deserve his honesty.

It's noisy in the locker room, as it usually is after training. Everyone has had their shower and they're all in various stages of undress; towels thrown about, lotions lying on the bench, the scent of cologne in the air. Fernando is suddenly overwhelmed and tears begin to pool in his eyes when he realizes how much he'll miss the atmosphere of the dressing room while he's away getting heavy with child.

Oscar sees him standing there in the midst of the room, teary-eyed and forlorn and he reaches a hand out to cup the striker's neck.

"Nandinho? Is something wrong?"

Ramires takes notice, and then Juan and André and soon enough the entire room is regarding him with curiosity.

"I have something to tell you all, if you wouldn't mind giving me a minute, that is."

There's a quiet shuffling, indicating that distracting items are being set down and full attention is being paid to the freckled man.

"It's strange. I don't know exactly how to say it, but there's going to be a press conference soon and I don't want you to find out that way."

Branislav swears, "For fuck's sake, they're not selling you are they?!"

" _Quoi_?! Selling you?! _Non_! They cannot!" Eden objects loudly.

Once again the room is abuzz with voices opposing any sale, transfer, loan or release of the striker they have come to love. Fernando feels touched by the intensity of their reaction and the tears well up in his eyes again. Juan gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and Fernando tries to quiet the uproar.

"Guys…guys… _¡hombres!_ " That gets their attention. "I'm not going to another team. I'm definitely not leaving the club, either. Not permanently, anyway, although I'm going to be taking some time off for a while." Fernando wrings his lower lip between his teeth and lets Juan's warm hand on his shoulder steady him. "I'm having a baby. I'm pregnant."

It's quiet. It's still and quiet in the dressing room in a moment of perfect peace that the four walls have probably never borne witness to with living beings present. And then it explodes into a second cacophony of noise, considerably more jubilant than the last.

"A baby?!" Ashley asks dumbfounded, "How far along are you?"

"Almost three months. That's why I have to stop training soon." 

The defender's face quirks into a smile and he wraps Fernando in a warm hug. They all take turns rubbing his stomach, embracing him and giving him parenting advice.

"Try and relax with your ankles up," John says. "I mean, my wife had the twins, so it was probably a bit more difficult, but still, you don't want your ankles to swell."

"Ankles-up is how she got twins in the first place, Johnny," Frank teases.

The group of men burst into laughter and Fernando can't help but love this team of idiots.

Mikel rubs at Fernando's belly and squeezes the striker into a tight hug before he turns to Juan and jokingly says, "If it's a girl, you'll name her Chelsea, okay? And if it's a boy, you better name him after me!"

Juan flushes and shakes his head, "Mik…me and Fer, we're…"

The Nigerian's face wrinkles in confusion and Fernando steels himself for the question he knows is coming.

"What? I thought the two of you…"

The room goes silent again and Demba asks quietly. "What about your wife?"

Fernando fidgets uncomfortably and stares down at the tiled floor.

"We're getting divorced."

Demba looks sombre and Fernando knows that what he's done are actions that go against the deeply religious striker's beliefs. 

"It's too late to change any of that now," David says. Fernando knows the Brazilian is equally as devout as Demba is. "God has given Fernando the blessing of life, all that he can do now is to be thankful and pray for the baby's health."

Demba hesitates for a moment, but he nods and offers Fernando a smile.

"Allah's blessings on you and your child, Fernando."

"And the other dad?" César gently inquires. 

Fernando's chin quivers in spite of his tightly clenched jaw. The tears blind him and he tries to blink them away.

"It doesn't matter," Petr's voice is calm and reassuring as he moves over and puts his arm around Fernando's shoulder. "We're all going to love your little one so much it'll be like having twenty-three fathers."

Smiles blossom around the room and there are declarations of agreement murmured from every corner. Fernando lets himself melt into Petr's side and in the keeper's embrace, in the warm and loving acceptance of this team, this family that Fernando has become a part of, he feels like a wayward football that has finally come to rest.

-

The night before the press conference, Fernando can't sleep. He lies there in the dark of Juan's guest room with his hands gently pressed against his stomach and he tries to reassure himself that he's making a good decision.

There's a quiet knock on the door and Juan pokes his head into the room.

"Are you all right? I can hear you tossing and turning from across the hall."

"Sorry," Fernando says. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Juan comes in and sits and the foot of the bed.

"You didn't. I can't fall asleep. I'm nervous about tomorrow."

"Imagine how I feel," the striker mutters.

Juan shifts on the bed, takes Fernando's feet into his lap and massages them gently.

"You'll be okay. You know that, right? You've got the whole team behind you. It's all going to be fine."

Fernando sighs and runs his hand over his stomach.

"I know you don't want me to ask about him, but have you told the other dad about the conference?"

The striker stares up at the ceiling and shakes his head.

"Don't you think that you should?" He asks. Fernando says nothing and Juan's voice is quiet and tender in the silence of the room. "You should tell him, Fer. He deserves to know beforehand, doesn't he?"

"I haven't even told my family as yet," the blond confesses. "I'm so ashamed of everything that's happened. I'm scared of what they'll say."

Juan abandons Fernando's feet and lies next to his friend.

"They aren't going to want to hear it from the media. Call them when you wake up. Tell them before they see it on TV. They love you so much, Fer. Don't be afraid."

Fernando nods and lays his head on Juan's shoulder.

"It'll all be okay. And even if it isn't, I'm here. You'll always have me. Always, I promise."

Juan rests his hand next to Fernando's own on his belly and the striker falls asleep contemplating the warmth of his friend's soothing touch.

-

In the morning, Fernando wakes up early and leaves Juan sleeping in the guest room as he goes into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of milk and his fingers hover over the contact list on his mobile phone before he taps his mother's name.

"Good morning, Fernando! How are you?"

"I want to talk to you and Papá. Is he there? Can you put the phone on speaker?"

There's the sound of buttons being pressed and then his father's low rumbling voice spills through the receiver.

"Good morning, Nando. How is everything? How are Olalla and the kids?"

Fernando takes a deep, steadying breath and stares down into his milk.

"We're getting a divorce." It's getting surprisingly easy to say.

"What?! Why?! What happened?"

Another deep breath, "I'm pregnant."

It's quiet on the phone and Fernando would think that the call had disconnected if it wasn't for the sound of the television in his parent's background.

"What do you mean? You're pregnant?" His mother asks bewildered.

"It was an accident, I never meant for this to happen, but it's happening and Oly's leaving me and--" Fernando's voice breaks off in a sob and he cradles his stomach in his hands.

"Who's the father?"

"Papá, please," Fernando cries.

"Fernando, who is the other father? Is it Juan?"

"Papá--"

"Is it Sergio?"

"Papá, please just leave it alone."

"Fernando, tell me! I--"

His mother cuts off her husband's escalating voice, "How many months pregnant are you?"

"About three. I only found out a few weeks ago. I have to stop playing football from now until next season, so I'm giving a press conference today. I didn't want you to find out like that, so I phoned."

"Are you ready for this, Nando?" His mother asks gently. "This is a big change."

Fernando nods, forgetting that his mother can't see him, "Mamá, if you could see the ultrasound, how tiny and beautiful...I want this. I wish I didn't have to give up so much to be able to have it, but I want this baby."

It's quiet for another brief moment and then,

"Nando," his mother says gently, "We raised you as best as we could and we tried to teach you how to make good decisions. I can only hope that you've given this careful thought, but no matter what, we're here for you, all right? Your Papá and I are here for you. We love you very much."

Fernando cries into the phone until his father says, "Nando, please, it's not good for the baby to be so sad. You have to be happy for your little one."

Fernando only cries harder, but this time his sadness is diluted by feelings of relief and love for his parents. They spend a little more time consoling him and they promise to speak to his brother and sister before Fernando goes into the media briefing. After they hang up, Fernando sits with his glass of milk in the quiet of Juan's kitchen and hopes that his baby knows the wonderful grandparents he or she is fortunate to have.

-

Fernando tries not to focus on anyone in particular as the briefing starts. He watches the tangle of microphone cords on the ground, and the way the light reflects off of the polished shoes of the reporters, and he talks.

"Thank you all for coming. This briefing has been arranged so that I can inform you of my decision to take a sabbatical from Chelsea FC."

The reporters stare and the cameras shutters click furiously.

"Have you been asked to leave?" One reporter asks.

"Is it to make way for Demba Ba? Or is it because the club looks set to sign Samuel Eto'o?" Another says.

Fernando tries not to look annoyed, "No, I haven't been asked to leave. It has nothing to do with Demba or the club at all."

"What's the reason then?" A man from the front row asks.

"I…" Fernando's heart pounds in his chest, but he fights back his fear. He remembers the joy he felt when he had his ultrasound, seeing the tiny blip of life on the screen for the first time. He lets the feeling fill him up and he takes a deep breath, "I'm pregnant."

Fernando doesn't think that he's ever seen or heard a press briefing be so still, and he can't help the tiny smile that creeps across his face because he's finally been able to surprise the English media.

"Pregnant, did you say?"

He nods, still with the smile on his face, and the camera shutters work noisily once more.

"How many months, Fernando?"

"Three months," he answers and now that they're all hanging on his every word and not dismissing him as Chelsea's overpaid and underperforming number nine, he's willing to engage them. "The doctors have advised me to stop playing at this point in my pregnancy for both my health and the baby's. I'll be taking the rest of the season off from both club and international duty, but I hope to make my return next season and do the best I can for the club."

The reporters don't seem to care about his pledges to the club and they all clamour to have their questions heard.

"Who's the father?"

Fernando answers as planned, "I'm not disclosing his identity. I just want to have a normal, healthy pregnancy and I feel like it's important to keep him away from the media to ensure that that's a possibility."

"Is it Juan Mata?"

"Is it Branislav Ivanovic?"

"Sergio Ramos?"

"Is it someone from Chelsea or the Spanish national team?"

"Is he also a footballer?"

Fernando shakes his head, "It's like you don't listen, I swear."

"What about your wife?"

The room hushes again and Fernando clenches his toes in his shoes in order to stay calm and respond evenly.

"By mutual decision we have filed for divorce."

"Did you have an affair?"

"Please," is all Fernando can manage to say, but it comes out stern and almost disbelieving.

A voice from the back of the room calls, "A boy or a girl, Nando?"

"I don't know. It's still too soon to tell."

"Which would you prefer though?"

"Ten fingers, ten toes and smile brighter than sunshine." 

The man who asked the question beams at him and offers his congratulations. It's the first kind word he's had from a reporter in a long time and when Fernando smiles, it feels like the whole room smiles with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the good feels ~~while they exist~~.


End file.
